


Did You Know?

by prettylittlefears82



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Late Night Conversations, POV Jimmy Woo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:02:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29371269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlefears82/pseuds/prettylittlefears82
Summary: Late nights, lipstick stains, and non-alchoholic drinks - their energies provide all the buzz.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis & Jimmy Woo, Darcy Lewis/Jimmy Woo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 76





	Did You Know?

**Author's Note:**

> Re the notes from my other fic for darcy/jimmy, I'm totally down for these two now. No doubt about it. Also, follow "loochips" on Tumblr. Erected by yours truly.

Darcy catches Jimmy on his way out, at their work lockers, planting her feet on the ground right in front of him as she blocks the exit to the small room, his leisurely coat still only halfway on. Her hat is lopsided, as if his detainment had been an impulsive decision. She makes a lot of those.

"You run off so quickly," she whines with a pout of her lip, any real hurt contradicted by her walking behind him to grab the other sleeve of his coat. She pulls it around to his front and lifts the sleeve hole up. After moving his sack of personal items (affectionately referred to as his "man-purse", but only in his head), he sticks his arm in the hole as he snorts and smiles. Really, it'd be more accurate to say that _she_ takes too long to leave for her own hotel, with all her gadgets and what not.

This moment, however kind, is surprisingly intimate, Jimmy realizes as she smooths down the ruffled sleeve. His heart pounds a little harder in his chest, and his eyes try to meet hers but they're busy working out the arrangement of his zippers.

_Intimate, disarmingly so._

He grabs her arm just as it tugs at the zipper tape of his coat. Just enough to still her and make her eyes flit up to his.

"Is there something you need?" he asks.

"I-" she drops her hand, and crosses both arms in front of her over-sized sweater. The flaps of his jacket hit his chest again with a small tap, nothing but a blip compared to his heart rate at the moment. He discreetly takes a breath to steady himself, now that his senses aren't clouded with her _hands on him_.

 _Now, when on Earth did this start?_

He doesn't have time to think about it before her lips are moving again, her back strengthening so she can stand to her full height, as if to gain some sort of courage. But her hands fiddle which each other deceivingly and she tries to cross them elegantly. It's not elegant at all, but it's Darcy, isn't it? And that's a whole lot of things.

"I'm trying to figure out how to ask you if we could maybe..." she leaves her post on the entrance and shuffles toward the cluster of lockers on the wall, purposely evading his eyes. As she taps the passcode in, she says, "I don't know, hang out after this?"

He turns at that, lifting his hand so the strap of his bag slides to his arm and he can freely zip his jacket himself. He considers her without looking.

"That'd be wonderful."

The beeping of Darcy's locker combination being tapped in comes to a halt. The strands of her hair uncovered by her hat swing when her head turns back quickly. 

"Really?"

"Really," he assures her.

* * *

There's a few kinks involved in planning an outing between the two of them, but they're all ironed out pretty quickly. Jimmy tags behind Darcy's rental in his own car, following her to her hotel as there'd been no worthwhile hub open near the S.W.O.R.D. base in the late hour.

 _"You know, maybe we could do breakfast?"_ she'd said with a small smile when her Google search came up empty but a rough-looking family-owned bar too far to drive for three a.m.

See, Wanda had picked the literal middle of no where. A small Jersey town with few inhabitants that Wanda had somehow overpopulated - they know that much. S.W.O.R.D. has bunkers for their agents, but fly-ins like Jimmy and Darcy had to find their own places with a small stipend. Most chose motels in the nearer towns. Apparently, Darcy hadn't been so simple.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were a Skrull leading me to my death. Are you?" he asks into his car speaker, hearing the millisecond late echo to her cell through the line.

Her voice fills his speakers after a pause. "Shh...Hayward can't know!" she jokes. He laughs along with her, cars stopping at a red light. He squints his eyes in the dark night to see her figure through her back car window, just a shadow of her head bathed in red-toned light, as her arms stretch to grip the steering wheel.

"I can keep a secret," he promises with a monotone, faux-serious voice. He watches her throw her head back in peeling laughter, the cars are moving again, and he drives the rest of the block with a smile stretching his face when she tells him they're almost there.

* * *

During the walk to her hotel room from the parking garage, Jimmy learns three admirable things about Darcy:

1\. She respects service workers more than titled Ph.D. holders.

2\. She walks at an almost enraging pace, as if she's spent a lifetime doing it alone.

He sees it as a sort of confidence though, once he picks up his own pace, and quits his slow stroll of the massive hotel.

They step in front of a room, and she whips a key card out from her purse. It slides through in a practiced move, and she's soon ushering him inside the room and kicking off her shoes. Her hat and glasses reach a small table next as turns both feet around their ankles, one after the other.

"Long day, huh?" Jimmy asks, standing awkwardly at the entrance with his hands behind his back. It feels like an intrusion of sorts, and while he doesn't mind being there, he minds the particular phases of unwinding Darcy has chosen to participate in as he watches. More for her comfort than anything, but still.

He looks around at the single room. It's nothing unusual; one bed, a television in front of it, and small chaise in the corner diagonal from the beds adjoining nightstand. It's quaint, but particularly lived in, with Darcy's stuff littered all over the two tables and an open suitcase on the floor, like they'd allowed her to grab things from home after realizing she might be in for a while.

She turns in front of him, starting to shrug off her coat. "Yeah...Um-" her eyes dart around the room as she holds her jacket, "-this wasn't exactly planned," she laughs. "You can put your stuff there." She points to the chifferobe near the entry, and he methodically places his shoes on the ground in front and his jacket on a hook.

He follows her a little ways to the middle of the room, where she invites him to sit on the edge of the bed. He does.

She walks over to the other side of the room and bends to look in a mini refrigerator.

"Anything in particular you wanted to do?" Jimmy asks, wondering where the spontaneous ask came from.

"No," she replies, coming back up with two flavors of Bubly in the crook of one arm and Snapple iced tea in the other. She bounces the choices in her hands; he picks the iced tea, settling for a more calming beverage in the middle of the night. He cracks it open as she walks back to close the fridge, sipping on lemon flavored sparkling water.

She slides to his left, nudging shoulders with him. She holds out her can with an enthusiastic "cheers!" when he looks back to smile at her, and he carefully taps the open glass bottle to her own. It almost reminds him of a time so long ago, and the implications of what sitting in a hotel with a girl at four a.m. means rush back to him. But he's not that kid now. (Or at least he tries not to be.)

He flips the cap of the drink as he takes a long sip, he flips the cap to its front, and reads the text. He nudges Darcy with his elbow, waiting for the impending turn of her head and questioning hum before asking, "Did you know... _stepping out for a walk every day can actually help you sleep better at night_? Sounds like something we should do," he alludes to their late night habits.

Her eyebrows raise, and she shakes her head with a muffled grin. It was a bad move.

The tiniest spurt of liquid spills from her lips. She grimaces, standing up to look for a towel. She digs around a backpack he hadn't seen leaning on the floor before. She arises triumphant, with a factory folded towel in her hand. 

When she wipes however, stop standing up, the red shade comes off on the towel. She grunts, moving around to the other side of the room to rummage around the table, picking up a small bottle.

He watches it all in confused earnest.

She sits back next to him, opening the bottle and pouring out a substance into her hand.

"Oil," she answers to his confused face. His eyebrow lifts, though she explains it all in a single move.

Her fingers reach her lips anything it all around. He watches the tint come lose from its matte form. _Oh_.

As she purse her lips together, her hands roam around for the towel again. They graze all the sheet next to her, before Jimmy's up and moving to grab it from the table where she left it. She smiles at the gesture, light catching on her oily lips.

He doesn't know why, but he feels compelled to not sit around, so he does what he assumes is next.

He places the paper on her lips, feeling it smudge the oil as his two fingers press. He grips the corner of the towel with his thumb as two fingers wipe the color off.

They're a delicate shade of baby pink underneath the paint, though still red on her lip line where he missed. And hell, he can't lie - the urge to touch them without a barrier between his hand and the plush of it is a strong one, but one that he continues to ignore - that's until she cheekily points it out to him. 

"You're staring," Darcy states nonchalantly.

He stutters over his breath, making to apologize.

"Oh no you don't!" she stops him, tilting her head and shaking it as her fingers quickly finish up the job before rising the lipstick-stained towel to the side. She moves her right thigh only an inch, and taps his knee with hers, leaning in even closer. "If I had a problem with this," she starts in a whispering tone, "we wouldn't be so close."

Her breath flutters over his own lips, and he realizes that statement to be all too true. When Darcy thinks something is a threat, she takes care of it (a story of blonde-haired God and a taser comes to mind, but he'll pocket the quip for later), and she does it quickly. He's not a threat. She wants to be close to him; wants to invade his space like she's doing now and steal his very breath and quicken his heart some sort of Vivaldi tune, though this is nothing classic.

Not a doctor and an FBI agent.

He thinks it over. Thinks and thinks - or _tries_. He hears her fingers sliding up the sheet as he stares eyes wide and mouth hung, at her. Then a sudden warmth covers his left hand, and he feels himself jump out of his skin, though her hand holds him down.

Her eyebrows cross, her face backing away slightly as her hand lifts to float over his. It feels electric, like her fingers are drawing him to her and he wants to let his hand raise and grab hers so bad but she looks so disheartened all of a sudden that it stops him.

"Is this _not_ what you want?"

He sports his own bewildered look right then. 

"I- Darcy how on _Earth_ could you think that? I'm-" he lifts his other hand to he bridge of his nose, "-good God, I'm..." he breathes out slow and careful, looking up to meet her eyes. "Darcy, I- I mean, I absolutely adore you. This is absolutely what I want."

He sees a sigh of relief puff her chest out, and he's breathing his own. 

"Well then take it."

His eyes snap wide open before sluggishly contracting again. That's how it all feels: sluggish; painstakingly slow as he lifts his hand, _finally_ , slipping his fingers in between hers. Like he's underwater, he moves the otherto her face, cupping her soft skin under it. He then slips his thumb slowly across her bottom lip. The pad brushes the plump flesh, and he swears she shivers under the touch. It's exhilarating.

He has full control, seemingly, until she opens her mouth. Her tongue darts out to lightly draw a streak across the side of the digit. It drives him _crazy_.

This, the woman who was afraid to ask him over, for what he now knows was _very much_ intended as a date? Well, two can play both sides.

Time seems to speed back to normal speed. He presses hard into her skin with his fingers while removing the thumb from her lips. He places their intertwined hands on her waist to push her back, just enough to tilt until his face is directly over hers. Then she licks her lips, slow and meticulous, and it's over for him.

He captures them between his own, the quick intake of her breath fueling him further. Her hand flies to the back of his head, turning him into her deeper, eliciting a soft grunt from his mouth. In the next instant they've pulled away, the rise and fall of their chests in sync.

They're still leaned at a forty-five degree angle, Darcy's back almost hitting the bed. His one hand stops her, the other perched on her neck.

"Did you know..." she starts, a bit breathless, " _on average, a human being will spend two weeks kissing in their life time_?"

His grin is blinding, before he embarks to get in those two weeks.

This time, when she bites his lip, he opens his mouth in a clash of teeth. And _God_ , drinks may be long forgotten but he drinks from her, an unplanned rampage of his tongue to every corner of her mouth that he can reach. 

He thinks this should be slow, but hell, he's ready to speed up with her. Can practically hear the wedding bells in his head he's so far gone. Or is that ringing, because he's slowly going crazy? All the same. This love _is_ crazy.

When they finally let go and take deep breaths in and out to slow themselves, the weight of their reality breaks in. The smiles don't still at all though, and he decides, _I don't want to think right now_. It's a first of what he assumes will be many with her at his side.

She gets the message, biting her lip as he just had and slowly sliding into his lap.

"You're gonna be the end of me," he admonishes, though truthfully, _he can't wait_. The end with her sounds like a dream.

* * *

The next however long is a flurry of lazy kisses, tired confessions - real ones, spilling everything they think about each other - and quiet resolve.

Now, she smiles against his lips, tugging him into a tired smile of his own. It's everything in that; she's everything in that moment, and he realizes he might just want to lay here with her forever. He gets the chance, or however much of "forever" one night can be.

"Jimmy?" 

"Yes?"

She lets her head fall to the pillow, eyes drooping softly. It's adorable, and her hair splays out so comfortably on the pillow he'd think she were in her own home. That, makes thank every star that he grew attached to such a woman that lets down in front of him - let's him _see_ her.

"I'm tired," she answers, as if it isn't obvious, and though he'd like to talk to her all night long, he agrees with the sentiment.

He lays his head on the other pillow, though landing in between both after he presses a kiss to her chin. "So am I."

She closes her eyes with a smile. "Then go to sleep right here, baby. You can keep a secret."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is very much appreciated have a good day/night!


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